


Gratitude

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: I love Chicago, Implied Violence, M/M, Miles packs heat, PWP, Threesome - M/M/M, cheesy euphemisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plot?  Seriously, WHAT PLOT.  Um... I guess, Jeremy finally decides to thank Miles and Bass PROPERLY for saving his life.  You know.  Sexually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [3988Akasha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/gifts), [Dragomir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/gifts).



> Some of you, you know who you are, are a terrible influence on me. And by that I mean: best! I hope you like what is officially my first threesome!

Jeremy was trying to concentrate on what Miles was saying, he really was, but it was getting increasingly difficult. For one thing, Miles had his arms pinned behind his back, which was distracting enough, but not nearly as distracting as Miles’ hot breath on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. And another thing, Miles had his crotch in extremely questionable proximity to Jeremy’s ass. Honestly, he had no idea how Bass ever survived these training sessions. Perhaps they were just foreplay for those two.

“Now do that to me.”

Jeremy felt the grip release, or rather, he felt himself thrown to the grass, landing sideways, so as not to injure his spine, just as Miles taught him.

“Wha... what?” Jeremy mumbled, staring up at Miles, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked up from the ground.

“Didn’t you hear anything I just said?” Miles was blocking out the sun. By his posture, Jeremy gauged he was probably not very amused.

“Can you just repeat the thing about the knock-out points?” Jeremy scrambled back to his feet. The martial arts training was going surprisingly better than he previously anticipated, and Bass even remarked on a few occasions that he was “a natural.” A comment which usually prompted Miles to respond with a dismissive, “A natural _what_?” Sometimes Jeremy wasn’t so sure.

“This is a knock-out point,” Miles said, touching his knuckles to Jeremy’s temple, “ _This_ is a knock-out point,” he connected the side of his hand to a part of Jeremy’s neck that made him feel both threatened and aroused at the same time, “And this is how I would hit you if I wanted to kill you.” Suddenly, Jeremy found himself looking down Miles’ slightly open hand, the pad of his palm came to rest after an upwards motion against his nose. “The shards of broken bone would lodge in your brain and you’d die,” Miles explained surprisingly soothingly.

“Oh. Well, thanks for not doing that then.” Jeremy gave Miles what he himself would have probably described as a stupid grin.

“Now, can you repeat the maneuver on me that I just did to you?”

Jeremy couldn’t very well answer that. The truth was that if he was to repeat that maneuver, then Miles would very likely find himself ass to Jeremy’s boner, and then things might get slightly embarrassing. And by that Jeremy meant that Bass would probably do that hand-to-nose thing to him.

“Can’t we do something else? Maybe you can show me how to break someone’s neck?”

“We’re just fresh out of necks to break,” Bass said, appearing behind Jeremy and wiping what looked very much like fresh blood off his hands. “You should have told me we would need a volunteer. I would have let that last asshole live.”

“How very thoughtful of you,” Miles smirked.

“How’s practice coming along?” Bass asked, naturally moving within inches of Miles, as if forces of magnetism verily hurt him to be in the other man’s presence unless he was physically touching him. Jeremy wondered if there was, indeed, such a law of physics.

“He’s totally out of it today,” Miles replied, his focus just as naturally shifting to his best friend.

“I’m right here,” Jeremy reminded them and bit his lip. Well, that was pointless.

“And he has a boner the size of Sears Tower right now. It’s not really helping.”

Jeremy’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the fact that Miles had noticed or the flippancy with which he announced it to Bass.

“Really?” Bass chuckled and shot a quick glance towards Jeremy. “The Sears Tower?”

“Well, maybe not quite the Sears Tower. But at least the Hancock Building.” Miles shrugged and pulled Bass closer to himself, whispering something in his ear, which the latter found so amusing as to dissolve into a veritable puddle of glee. Jeremy wanted to die a little.

“While I remain _flattered_ for you to compare my cock to your local landmarks...” he started to say in protest.

“Silence, soldier,” the tone of Miles’ voice did nothing to dissuade Jeremy’s embarrassing condition. He opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again upon beholding Monroe’s steel-blue gaze. “We should discuss this little insubordination of yours more privately, don’t you think?” 

Jeremy swallowed. 

“Um... sure, Miles. I mean... Yes, Sir.”

Apparently the two assholes found this response incredibly amusing, as was evidenced by their eruptions of laughter. Bass clapped Jeremy on his back and propelled him back towards the house they had been using as temporarily operational headquarters. Once they were inside, Miles immediately poured himself a drink and sprawled out on the couch. Bass, on the other hand, circled Jeremy a few times, as if the latter was his prey, until he finally came to rest against the fireplace.

“Well, well, well, Jeremy Baker,” Bass finally said. “You know, getting big boners during martial arts training is... uh... Help me out here, Miles?”

“Common,” Miles intoned from the couch, causing Bass to laugh again.

“Look, you little sick fuck,” Jeremy finally found his voice, “Are you seriously going to give me shit for something that my body involuntarily does to me - as if you don’t have a prick of your own that jumps at the mere thought of Miles?”

Bass watched Jeremy, a wicked smile frozen across his face. “It jumps, does it? At the mere thought of Miles?”

“Dammit, Monroe, I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about you now!”

Miles took a long gulp and eyed his drink through the glass as if he was trying to read the future in it.

“That is neither here nor there, and certainly doesn’t get to the point,” Miles finally said, cutting the strange tension in the room. The two other men glanced expectedly towards him. “The crux of the situation is: what are we all going to do about your boner?” Jeremy could think of a few things he would like to tell Miles to do about his boner, but then he remembered that only one of them was well-versed at breaking people’s necks, and it was not Jeremy.

“Well, Miles, you and Bass did save my life,” Jeremy finally said, deciding to take a chance - the odds of the situation becoming any _more_ fucked up being slim, “And, actually, what I’m thinking is, I never really got to thank you properly.”

At that, Miles cocked one of his eyebrows and looked over at Bass, who pursed his lips and looked entirely overly complacent. They probably did read each other’s minds, Jeremy thought, somewhat dolefully. There wasn’t a chance anyone could ever penetrate _that_ inner circle. Circle of two. He’s watched them long enough to know what they were to each other, _all_ that they were to each other, but not long enough to predict how they would have responded to his not entirely subtle proposal.

“Come here, Jeremy,” Miles said, using a tone quite similar to the tone he used when dispensing orders. 

Jeremy decided that he probably had nothing to lose. He was hoping that if they had decided to finally kill him, that Miles would at least do it quickly, the way he’d seen him do countless times in the last few months. He approached the couch and looked down at Miles, who was still reclining there with the glass in his hand. He looked good enough to eat, and Jeremy still hoped he might get the chance.

Miles sat up and indicated the space on the couch next to him. Jeremy sat, eyeing both Miles and Bass rather suspiciously.

“So,” Miles started, putting his glass aside, “You’d like to give us both a proper thanks, do you?” Jeremy swallowed another lump in his throat and nodded mutely. Something about the way Miles could drop his voice when he wanted to just drove him insane. “And you’re comfortable with that? Thanking us both, I mean. At the same time.”

“Or perhaps,” Bass added, coming closer. “You’d really only like to thank one of us. Or maybe you feel more grateful towards one of us than the other.”

“What are you, jealous?” Jeremy suddenly asked, possibly breaking the rules of the Euphemism Game.

Bass chuckled a bit again.

“This is the way it has to be, Jeremy. Miles and I have to invite you in. You don’t have to say ‘Yes.’ But you have to understand what the rules are and be fine with them.”

“I get it,” Jeremy said, getting a little heated and impatient. “I’m not, contrary to certain opinions, an idiot. I know how this works. And I want it to work that way. You’re both hot. I want both of you. Right here, right now. Now can we please just stop playing games and get on with it?”

“Well, then...” Bass smiled benevolently and looked over at Miles, as if deferring to him.

“Take off your clothes,” Miles said, facing Jeremy.

Jeremy happily jumped up off the couch and started to strip.

“Slow down. What’s the rush, soldier?” Bass gently put his hand on Jeremy’s arm, running it softly along his bicep. 

“Didn’t realize you wanted me to put on a show,” Jeremy replied, softly but playfully, causing Bass to make a sound akin to an approving purr. He continued to remove particles of his clothing more slowly, more aware of their eyes on him as he undressed. He didn’t remember the last time he felt like this - utterly objectified, yet gloriously aroused by it. He was mindful to remove his socks before removing his pants, so as not to ruin the moment by being naked while wearing only socks. By the time he finally stood naked in front of the couch, Miles had finished his drink and pulled Bass into his arms, kissing the other man slowly, first on his mouth, then trailing kisses and bites down his neck.

“Do you like what you see, Jeremy?” Bass asked, turning to face him while Miles was still paying very close attention to his neck with his tongue.

“Yeah...” Jeremy finally managed, feeling more naked than ever with Bass’ eyes on him like that. “Do you?” He gave Bass a saucy smile and was rewarded with a happy grin in return.

“Oh yeah,” Bass replied and pulled Miles up by the hair. “What about you, Miles?”

“I like everything in this room,” Miles said, looking from Jeremy’s naked form to his best friend, who was becoming somewhat flushed with excitement. Miles got up and walked over to Jeremy, stopping mere inches away from his face. “Now, Jeremy, tell me how grateful you are again.”

Jeremy let go of his resentment of being the only man in the room not wearing pants, and grabbed Miles by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in for a kiss. It wasn’t, in hindsight, what he had expected. He thought that kissing Miles would be violent, metallic even, possibly from the taste of blood. Instead, it felt warm, and welcoming, and slow, as if Miles was carefully exploring him, studying him for weaknesses with his tongue and lips, and then the kiss deepened and Jeremy felt their tongues battling briefly for dominance, before Jeremy decided to let Miles win and allowed his mouth to be conquered and probed. It was, as far as such things go, possibly the most promising of first kisses Jeremy had ever experienced. He couldn’t wait to get fucked by Miles.

He must have been too distracted by what was happening in his mouth to heed the other parts of his body because when he finally came up for air, Miles’ hand was stroking his cock back to its full hardness, and Bass had suddenly materialized behind him, grabbing him by the hair and forcing their lips together, taking his turn and his time tasting Jeremy. Jeremy noted right away that Bass liked to use his teeth, as his lower lip was being gently nibbled on, while at the same time, Miles was pressing his lips to the other side of Jeremy’s neck, sending more and more subtle shocks of pleasure to his loins. An involuntary moan escaped Jeremy’s lips, which only served to encourage his two lovers, who suddenly flanked him and had all four of their arms roaming liberally all over his ass and torso.

Jeremy grasped Miles by shoulders, wanting to pull them both if at all possible closer. “Please...” he moaned a bit helplessly.

“Shhh, you impatient little slut,” Miles admonished him sweetly, his mouth moving down Jeremy’s chest to pay attention to the small buds of his nipples, causing Jeremy to writhe and moan again. While Miles had one nipple in his mouth, Bass was playing with the other one with his long and crafty fingers, his mouth claiming Jeremy’s again with practiced dominance. 

“God, this is so unfair,” Jeremy muttered.

“Don’t you like being the center of attention?” Bass breathed into the back of his neck.

“There should be more nudity,” Jeremy gasped as Miles’ hand found his ball sack and squeezed. “And I mean not just mine.”

“Good things come to those who wait,” Miles grinned up at him. Then Jeremy watched the two of them exchange another look, and just as he suspected - by some power of telepathy - they suddenly moved and switched positions so that Jeremy found Miles behind him, his hands tracing circles over the globes of his ass, and Bass in front of him, unzipping his own fly.

Bass sat down on the couch and took his cock out from the confines of his slacks. “Hey there, handsome,” he said, looking up at Jeremy with a perfectly debauched look, “Why don’t you come here and show me how thankful you are.” Jeremy felt Miles gently push him towards the couch and Bass’ engorged cock. Unwittingly, Jeremy licked his lips and descended onto his knees in front of Monroe. He might not be picking up the martial arts as quickly as he would have liked, but if there was one thing Jeremy Baker knew he excelled at, it was blowjobs.

“Mmmm,” Jeremy said, drawing closer to the erection he was presented with, “Thank you, Sir.” He first took Monroe’s cock gently in his hand, letting his fingers run up and down the shaft, before he licked up the length of it, slowly, making sure Bass could feel his tongue sliding along each vein. An encouraging moan was his initial reward. He repeated his opening maneuver, this time letting his tongue circle the head and dip into the hole before descending down the shaft again in a series of long licks.

“Damn...” Bass mumbled and closed his eyes. “You’ve done this before.”

Jeremy chuckled around Monroe’s throbbing cock and finally came up to swallow the head, before taking the entire length of Bass into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. It was then that he felt the presence of Miles again, making himself known by pushing a slick finger inside him. Jeremy didn’t know what these two used for lube, but he didn’t much care at the moment, since it seemed to do the trick, and continued to enthusiastically bob his head up and down on Monroe’s cock. He felt another finger join the first and then Miles brushed up against his prostate, sending his mind and body into overdrive.

“That’s a good little slut,” Jeremy heard Miles say, his voice just another intoxicating caress. “I’m gonna fuck you, Jeremy.” This promise made him moan around Monroe’s cock again and he relaxed his throat, allowing Bass to thrust deeper into his mouth, one hand clenched in Jeremy’s short, blond hair, the other grasping the fabric of the couch.

“Oh, fuck, Miles! This feels so good...” Jeremy tried not to overthink the implication of Bass calling out Miles’ name while fucking his throat: nothing productive could come of it. Instead he focused on the feel of the third finger inside him. He wanted to take Monroe’s cock out of his mouth and tell Miles that he was ready and to just fuck him already, Jesus Christ, that fucking tease.

At last, Miles had apparently deemed him sufficiently fuck-worthy, because the fingers were withdrawn and Jeremy felt the head of the other man’s cock pressing firmly against his stretched opening. He moaned again around Monroe’s cock, the vibrations of it apparently adding the pleasure since Bass emitted a loud groan again and thrust forward. And then, at last, Jeremy was being impaled on Miles’ cock, the pressure of it filling him speaking volumes of why Miles took so long to prepare him for penetration. Miles was apparently in possession of a mighty weapon hereto unseen. And, God, did he know how to use it!

Jeremy wasn’t sure what was happening anymore, except that he loved every inch of it, of _both_ of them. If he could die like that, with the two of them shoving their beautiful cocks into all his orifices, he would very well die a happy man. He could feel Monroe getting close and he looked up to see Bass watching him with lust-glazed eyes, his lids at half mast.

“You look beautiful like this, Jeremy. My cock in your mouth. His cock up your ass. Oh, fuck!” Bass actually caressed the side of Jeremy’s face as he thrust home more. Then Bass looked towards Miles again and Jeremy figured something invisible and sexual would be passing telepathically between them, when Miles kindly wrapped his hand around Jeremy’s own leaking erection and started to pump in time with the thrusting of his hips. And Jeremy was grateful at that moment, very grateful indeed. Grateful enough to swallow all of Monroe’s seed as he spilled down his throat with a triumphant moan.

“God damn it, you perfect little manwhore,” Bass gasped and suddenly pulled Jeremy up for a kiss, tasting himself ravenously as he did so. Jeremy desperately wrapped his arms around Bass, feeling himself about to spend as Miles mounted his assault from behind. “Come on, baby,” Bass whispered and ran his fingers through Jeremy’s hair, and as if that little encouragement was enough, he found himself coming right onto the other man’s clothes. The weight of Miles resting in a heap of limbs against his back told Jeremy that the session was completed.

The three of them sort of crumbled into a mound of flesh upon the couch, breathing heavily. The scent of all of their bodies lingered in the air, permeating everything, making Jeremy wonder whether everyone would be able to smell the two of them all over him for days. He allowed himself to close his eyes and before he knew it, he drifted off to sleep, his head on Monroe’s chest, Miles’ head in his own lap.

When he woke up, he was still on the couch, but completely alone. Someone must have cleaned him up because he was surprisingly not sticky and appeared to have been covered by some kind of an overcoat. Before he had the chance to ask himself whether he felt well or badly used, his eyes focused on a piece of paper lying on top of a neatly stacked pile of his clothes at the foot of the couch.

_Hey, Sleeping Beauty,_

_When you find your legs again, report to the bedroom. We’ll expect a full debrief._

_M_

“These insatiable fuckers will be the death of me,” Jeremy mumbled to himself. “But what a way to go!”


End file.
